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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409510">The Prize is Inside</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest'>seekrest</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spideychelle Bingo [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, F/M, Smut, or Does it???, the metaphor of boxes, this really has no point, well sort of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:00:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Peter says against her neck as Michelle rolls her eyes. “It’s the perfect present.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michelle Jones/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spideychelle Bingo [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845310</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Prize is Inside</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/klassmartin/gifts">mjonesing (klassmartin)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on an inside joke, for Galentine’s Day. Thank u to Renee for the title.</p><p>I am,,, sorry?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Peter…”</p><p>“Just think about it, MJ,” Peter murmurs against her neck, Michelle desperately wanting to roll her eyes only for her breath to catch when Peter’s tongues darts out to taste her before lightly sucking, moaning as she hitches a leg up and around him, Peter moving in and out of her at a painfully frustrating pace.</p><p>“Less thinking, more fucking,” she says, hitching her hips as Peter pants into her neck-- only for one hand to grip at her thigh, just on the right side of too much as he stops her pace. </p><p>“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Peter says, against her lips before pulling out-- slow then pushing himself back in hard and fast as Michelle pants. “It’s the perfect present.”</p><p>“<em> SNL </em>was a mistake,” Michelle huffs out as Peter laughs, resuming a rhythm that keeps her just barely on the edge but still frustratingly too far away from where she wants to be. </p><p>“You just say that because you don’t--<em> fuck </em>,” Peter says, Michelle smirking at his voice cutting off when she clenches around him. Peter retaliates by increasing his pace, counterintuitive to his prior teasing since that’s exactly what she wanted from him as he pants, “Fuck, Em.”</p><p>“Now you’re getting it,” Michelle pants, closing her eyes as she gets lost to the feel of him everywhere— on top of her, inside her, his breath hitching as his hand digs into her hip as he pulses his own. </p><p>Any teasing that Peter had still in mind is gone now, pounding into her with such precision that Michelle thinks she might black out from the intensity of it until she comes-- Peter’s choked off gasp when she ripples around him being one of her favorite sounds.</p><p>When he empties into the condom, Michelle’s heart is still racing-- Peter’s resting his body weight on top of her as he works to catch his breath. He leans his head up, Michelle smiling at him as he grins.</p><p>“Happy birthday,” he says before kissing her, pulling out as Michelle laughs. </p><p>“It’s not my birthday for another few hours,” she says, stretching as she gazes over as Peter ties off the condom and throws it away before slipping right back into bed-- hand reaching out across from her as he kisses at her neck.</p><p>“Oh no, must’ve gotten the date wrong,” Peter murmurs, Michelle closing her eyes as Peter’s hands start to wander. “Guess I’ll have to figure out something else to get you.”</p><p>“You don’t have to get me anything,” Michelle sighs as Peter’s fingers dip down to the space between her legs-- still wet and still sensitive as Peter slowly slides a finger into her. </p><p>“But I’ve thought about it <em> long and hard </em>,” he murmurs against her neck before moving down to her chest, Michelle’s laugh turning into a moan as he adjusts his hand to pump his finger in and out of her, “you’re gonna love it.” </p><p>“You overestimate yourself,” Michelle pants out, hating how easily he’s able to turn her on when she’s trying to argue with him-- Peter’s tongue laving over her nipple as he slips another finger into her-- moving his mouth to work at her other breast, replacing his mouth with his hand for the other. </p><p>“Why when you love it so much?” Peter says against her breast as Michelle moans. “I’ll choose a red box and a blue bow.”</p><p>“Peter,” Michelle pants out as he lifts his head up, his fingers now slickly moving inside of her.</p><p>“Maybe a blue box and a red bow,” Peter says as he kisses her, Michelle gasping into his mouth when he presses the pad of his thumb against her clit as she works her hips with him.</p><p>“I hate you,” she says before her back arches, Peter kissing his way down her chest, her stomach before he settles-- replacing his thumb with his tongue as his fingers continue to pump inside of her. </p><p>Peter hums against her, Michelle closing her eyes and rocking her hips against his face-- Peter bringing the hand not currently curling perfectly inside of her to wrap around her hip. </p><p>Peter’s stopped arguing just as Michelle stops trying to focus on anything else than the feel of his tongue and his fingers-- her second orgasm creeping up on her as she squeezes her thighs against his head before her legs are boneless, shuddering slightly when Peter works her through it with his tongue. </p><p>Michelle lazily opens her eyes when Peter crawls over her again, the stupid grin on his face telling her all she needs to know. </p><p>“You love me,” he says, kissing her before saying, “and you’ll love my dick in a box.”</p><p>Michelle groans, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him down till he’s flush against her-- thinking of how much she loves this stupid man and his stupid jokes and how glad she is to have him in her life. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Michelle stares at Peter, swallowing down the lump in her throat as the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor echoes throughout the now empty medbay.</p><p>She’s alone for the first time all day, grinding her teeth to prevent herself from crying-- if only because she thinks she’s all cried out as she stares at Peter’s still form. </p><p>The hiss and whine of the ventilator shouldn’t be so familiar to her but it is, eyes drifting over to it and to the steady rise and fall of his chest-- artificial since it’s the only thing keeping him alive right now. </p><p>“This is a terrible birthday, Pete. Just letting you know,” she says because she doesn’t know what else to say, because this isn’t how it was supposed to be, because it’s hard to think that everything had gone so horribly wrong in less than a day.</p><p>She should be used to it by now and she is-- seeing Peter swing off into the city into unknown danger, getting a call from May saying that he’s in the medbay, and grabbing her coat and her keys and her sense of will to prepare herself for what she’s going to see when she gets there. </p><p>But this, to see him bandaged and broken and bruised-- not even breathing on his own-- when he’d been joking with her just hours before, is still giving her a little emotional whiplash-- not least of which because of what she’s overheard a nurse say when they thought she wasn’t there.</p><p>Of how Peter’s heart stopped two times on the table, of how he isn’t healing like he should, of how they need to ‘prepare the family’ whatever the fuck that means. </p><p>Michelle chokes back a sob as she slips her hand into Peter’s, careful not to mess with the array of wires and IVs all attached as she grits her teeth. </p><p>All she can think of now is his stupid joke from hours before, a horrifying morbid thought that if things don’t change she’ll be seeing <em>all</em> of him in a box-- an image of a nightmare that feels all too real for how still Peter is. </p><p>“Come back to me,” she whispers, gently running her thumb over his hand. </p><p>“Please.”</p>
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